Byway Star

(Photo: Harald Hoyer, FotoCommunity.com)

Apartment hunting in Manhattan, they warned me, wasn’t for the faint hearted. Many spoke of ‘Craigslist horror stories’. A friend said ,”My roommate’s boyfriend has moved into our apartment – he just got released from prison. I’m moving out now.”

Others pointed out links to micro-studios, shoebox apartments and more. Still others pointed out rent numbers. I wondered if I’d have to live on the streets.

Armed with this knowledge, I ventured forth gamely in my quest for shelter.

**

(Photo credit: 13thStreetStudio.com )

The first house I saw had the ambience of a 70s Hindi movie brothel scene.

There were peeling, flaking walls. The wooden staircase felt like it’d fall apart any moment. A belly-scratching, nose-picking, banian clad middle-aged gent showed me the ‘room’.

The ‘room’ was only slightly larger than a closet. A refrigerator, microwave, a wash basin and small stove were squeezed into the space. I’d practically have to jump into bed – there wasn’t any walking room inside.

750 dollars a month. “Plenty of sunlight”, the landlord announced. “No thanks.”, I said.

**

I walked up the second house’s winding, ancient staircase. It felt like crawling atop a dark, lightless tower. The door of the fourth floor apartment was far, far away from sunlight.

The two women who opened the door squealed ,”Hellllllooooo! We are really glad you could make it”, like they’d known me forever – and ushered me in. “Two of us stay here now. Three of our housemates have just moved out – and we want to fill those rooms.”

I was gratified by the warmth of the reception. Surely, a dark, old, decrepit apartment would be livable if it had warm housemates? I’d sent a detailed email response to their Craigslist ad about who I was, and the kind of house and housemates I was seeking. Clearly, I told myself, they had the good taste to recognize a great fit when they saw one.

I found myself escorted along a long, narrow corridor, which made the apartment feel much darker than the door had made it look.

The room had hardly any space for my belongings – no surprises there. “Hey, this room doesn’t have a door!” I exclaimed. Pat came the response ,“Oh, that’s because this is our living room. Don’t you worry – we’ll cover the entrance with a curtain so you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“Just 800 dollars a month.”

“So I’d like to know you guys better to see if you’re the kind of persons I’d like as housemates.”

“We really don’t have time, dude. We’ve asked everyone who replied to our Craigslist ad to come and see the place.”

“Didn’t you read my email saying I’d like to talk to you guys before committing?”

“Umm, I don’t remember. We got some 100 email responses – we really didn’t have time to read all of

them.”

The doorbell rang.

One of the girls went running ,”Helllllooooo. I’m really glad you could make it.” and welcomed the new aspiring tenant inside. The other girl distractedly asked ,”What did you want to know?”

While I debated whether to continue the conversation or not, the doorbell rang again. The girl muttered ,”Sorry, hundreds of people seeing the place today.” and ran towards the door.

She let out a hearty ,”Hellllloooo! I’m really glad you could make it.” – and the new visitor came in.

I stepped out.